


For Yourself Alone

by VerdantMoth



Series: For Yourself [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canonical Knight Behavior, Good Mordred, Good morgana, Hair Kink, Kissing, M/M, Magic Reveal, king arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2019-08-22 22:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16606430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Arthur has a thing for touching people. Especially their hair. Even more so when it's long. He rarely touches Merlin though, and Merlin wants to change that.a link to the beautiful artwork that inspired this piecehttp://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merlin_Reverse_Bang_Round_1/works/10976025





	For Yourself Alone

**Author's Note:**

> “only God…  
> could love you for yourself alone  
> and not your [black] hair,”

“ _only_ _God_ …

 _could_ _love_ _you_ _for_ _yourself_ _alone_

 _and_ _not_ _your_ [ _black_ ] _hair_ ,”

 

 

Merlin watched the knights on the training field with burning eyes. It had always been his habit to rub half-seriously at the armor Arthur dumped in front of him, while watching the sweaty masses before him to distract himself from the tediousness that was his daily life. Today his focus was less about mind numbing boredom, however, and more about research. Mostly, he was studying Arthur’s tactile way of interacting with his soldiers. It came about in little touches, an arm to a shoulder, a fist to a deltoid. A knee knocking someone who had fallen already. Specifically, though, Merlin watched Arthur’s interaction with _hair._

        At this second, Merlin was scrubbing a hole into a long since deformed helmet, watching as Arthur knocked Elyan down and then caught Gwaine in a headlock. The two tussled for a moment, before Arthur brought his fist to Gwaine’s head and rubbed his knuckles across his scalp. It only lasted for a few moments before Gwaine broke free and took a second swing at Arthur. Elyan took his chance and swung at Arthur’s legs, knocking the king to the ground. Arthur fell to his knees and then slumped onto his back, laughing, before Perceval walked over and helped him up. The knights began separating after that. Perceval bent down to retrieve a shield and Arthur passed by, running a hand across his shorn head almost absently. Merlin scowled and returned to the armor in front of him. He’d only done about a third of the work, but he found he wasn’t too concerned with the prospect of a late night spent completing the task. Worst case scenario he’d just magic the stupid metal shiny and call it retribution.

        His concentration was broken by a sudden rush of freezing water that dripped down his face, his neck. Cool blue eyes met his own stormy gaze, joined by a crooked grin as Arthur smirked.

        “You looked a little warm down there, Merlin.”

        Merlin scowl returned with angry vengeance as he tried shaking his head to dispel some of the water.

        “Mordred here was kind enough to chill some water for us. Just thought you’d appreciate something refreshing.” Mordred walked past, a small but pleased blush dotting his cheeks, and Merlin tracked the movement as Arthur reached a hand out to ruffle the boy’s curls. Merlin stood slowly, head bowed.

        “How thoughtful, _sire_.” He began gathering as much of the metal in his arms as possible. “As you can see, though, the heat seems to have slowed my progress, and I’ve quite a bit left to finish. If you’ll excuse me.” He moved to march past Mordred and Arthur, resolutely ignoring their twin looks of confusion.

\---

        Arthur’s reign and subsequent removal of the ban on magic had made Camelot a much brighter place, and had served to begin mending broken relationships. That was not to say that it was all sweet-smelling roses in the kingdom, because long held prejudices would not change overnight, but people really seemed to be taking the lead of their king with regards to their talented kin. As such, it was not unusual for Mordred and Morgana to be the main at feasts, always ready with shimmering displays of colors and clever tricks of light, setting drinks to bubble and icing over roasted meats before returning things to normal.

        Lancelot watched Merlin as the servant regarded a handful of levitating berries with a contempt unseen in him before, twin seeds of envy and wistfulness warring in his eyes. The knight leaned closer so he could whisper to his friend, “You know, you could tell him now. It is allowed.”

        Merlin half turned, never averting his gaze. “You know I can’t, Lance. It’s been too long. It would destroy everything I’ve built with him.”

        Lancelot shrugged. “Perhaps not.”

        “Lancelot. Magic has been legal for three years now. He’ll wonder why I didn’t come forward sooner. They all will.”

        “It’s a fair question. Why haven’t you?”

        Merlin shook his head, but before he could speak he caught Mordred giving him a sly grin. A split second later an entire tray of sticky syrup-berries was hurtling towards his head. There were too many eyes on him for magic, and he was so thrown by the action he didn’t duck quickly enough. Thus Merlin found himself with a face full of mushed fruit, syrup clumping in his hair. The entire hall fell silent.

        Mordred looked shaken. “Sorry Merlin! I really thought you’d catch those.” He gave Merlin a look, like he wasn’t quite sure what had happened.

        Arthur barked a laugh, breaking the tense silence. “And what, pray tell, gave you the idea that _Mer_ lin could do something like that?”

        Mordred shrugged as others began laughing. “I don’t know, sire. Suppose I thought Merlin might have some hidden talents he wanted to share, the way he surprised us with his juggling talent.”

        “Well?” Arthur turned to Merlin with a mocking lilt to his voice. “Anything new you’d like to share with us?”

        “No, sire,” Merlin ground out. Everyone waited for some teasing remark, but Merlin only turned on his heel, vainly attempting remove some of the slime from his hair.

        “Where do you think you’re going, Merlin?” Arthur asked incredulously.

        Merlin didn’t turn. “To wash this out of my hair before it dries.”

        Arthur studied his servant with confusion, noting the stiffness in his neck, the hard lines of his back, suddenly filling out his tunic in way he wouldn’t have when he’d first shown up in Camelot. As usual these days, Arthur felt as though Merlin had more to say, and he’d never known his servant to bite his tongue, but Merlin had been silent a lot lately. All angry curls to his lip and cold judgment in his eyes. It made no sense. Arthur would have expected Merlin to be overjoyed at the allowance of magic, as he had fought so hard for it before. He’d thought that whatever secrets his servant had been hiding would be revealed now that it was safe. If anything though, Merlin had become more secretive and furious. Arthur needed something more from the other man, something to dispel the cold rage brewing beneath pale skin. With as much condescending authority as he could muster he spoke. “Well. At least clean up the mess before you go. Then you’re dismissed.”

        Beside him, Morgana gasped. “Arthur! You can’t! If you make him stay, those berries will dry and he’ll have to cut the mess out.”

        Arthur forced a smirk as he turned towards her, wrapping a dark strand of her hair in his fingers and playfully tugging. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to cut your own off and make him a wig.”

        Arthur had battled enemies with less hatred in their eyes, he thought, as he regarded Merlin. Still, his servant slowly crouched and began scrubbing at the sloppy mess on the floor. It stayed quiet in the hall for a long moment, half the guests expecting to hear a poorly concealed “clotpole” ringing out. Eventually though, Merlin had cleaned the floor to his own satisfaction and stormed out of the room. Arthur, for the life of him, couldn’t fathom why he found the silence so frustrating, but it tormented him for the rest of the meal.

\---

        “Merlin! Hold still.” Almost instantaneously, the fidgeting stopped, and Merlin’s already slumped shoulders attempted to curl in further. Scattered across the chamber floor were clumps of night-black hair. For a man who had such a short haircut, Gwen was surprised at how much hair she’d managed to remove from her friend’s head.

        “I know you aren’t pleased, Merlin, but its only hair. It’ll grow back,” she tried to soothe.

        “You don’t understand.” His voice came out just a little wet, and she ignored the way his sleeve kept brushing his nose. “I spent months growing it out the little bit it had. It’ll take me more than a year to grow it out the way I want now.” Merlin toed at the closest pile, spreading the hair out across the floor.

        Gwen sighed as she set down her tool. “I have never known you to be particularly invested in your looks. What has possessed you?”

        “Nothing. You’ll think it’s silly and then you’ll tell Lancelot and he’ll find it silly. Then he’ll tell the knights and they’ll all have a grand laugh at poor, foolish, Merlin.”

        “I will not.”

        “Yes, you will. You can’t help it. You married people have this annoying habit of confiding in each other.”

        “Okay, so that seems to be a logical conclusion. But Merlin, you don’t know how I’ll feel about it. Or how anyone else will react.”

        Merlin fixed her with a hard look. “Tell me I’m wrong. That the knights don’t find endless means to mock me. That you don’t sometimes see me as nothing more than a silly servant.”

        Gwen huffed in frustration. “Oh, come off it! We’re your friends. Things that you take seriously, we will as well.”

        Merlin scoffed as he stood, brushing the loose, itchy strands from his neck with a bitter laugh. “No, you won’t. You guys can’t help but find amusement in my suffering.”

        There was a sudden knock at his door. “Gwen?” Arthur’s voice rang through the room. Gwen noted the panic rising in Merlin, so she called, “Just a moment, sire!” as she pushed him behind a changing screen to the left of the door.

        She pulled the heavy wood of the door opened just a crack, hoping to dissuade Arthur from entering. He didn’t even seem to notice though, and Gwen found herself carefully maneuvering their positions so his back was to the screen. It was slightly shorter than she was, and Merlin wasn’t crouching as much as he needed to, letting his eyes peek over the top.

        “Have you slain a small beast in here?”

        “I- what?” she asked, confused.

        Arthur motioned to Merlin’s hair, still strewn across the floor. Gwen gave a breathless laugh and reached for a broom. “Oh no, sire. Just giving someone a trim.”

        “Anyone important?”

        “Um. No, not really. Just a servant.” Gwen shot Merlin a look as Arthur turned to survey the rest of the room. “Did you have some reason to visit?”

        Arthur turned back. “Oh! Right, have you seen your husband? We were meant to go over some new formations today, but I can’t find him.”

        “I believe he and Elyan were going to the to look at some new swords.”

        Arthur nodded, and then shrugged. “Geez, Gwen. I feel sorry for the poor lad you took your sheers too. Looks like he lost his whole head!”

        “Well, Your Majesty. He seemed to have had a run in with some unfortunately sticky substance.” She glared through her smile and Arthur looked taken aback at the hostility. He reached out a hand, catching a loose curl around her face and tugging. “I was only teasing, Guinevere. I’m sure you did a fine job.”

        Gwen caught Merlin’s eyes in that moment, and she paused. Arthur left in her moment of hesitation, already distracted by the prospect of finding his knights, and Gwen sighed as Merlin stormed out shortly after. “Oh! Oh, poor Merlin.”

\---

        Elyan swung low, hoping to knock Perceval at the knees. Instead, he found himself ducking a surprising blow from Leon that caused him to lose his footing. He ended up on his back, head ringing just a little. As he righted himself, he caught movement on his left and turned to see Merlin approaching. It took him a moment to figure out what was different, but once he had he couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out. “Merlin! What on earth have you done to your hair?”

        The rest of the knights turned slowly, before they too joined in the laughter. Several of them stepped forward, reaching hands out to scrub Merlin’s scalp, feeling the sharpness of hair too short to be gripped between their fingers.

        “My, Merlin, what big ears you have!”

        Someone flicked one of his ears, and Elyan couldn’t help but poke at Merlin’s cheekbones. “You look so different! Like your face has been stretched too long. No wonder you’ve never done a clean shave before.”   

        Leon laughed at his side, but Lancelot frowned. “Honestly. It’s actually not so bad, Merlin.”

        Merlin just scowled and tried to push the offending hands away. Perceval joined him. “Really, it’s not. Just highlights your pretty pout.”

        Mordred snickered. “No, I really think his best features are his ears.”

        Merlin’s look only grew darker as the knights laughed harder. Elyan noticed this and tried to reign in his mirth. The shock of the whole thing overtook him though and he doubled over with tears streaming down his face.

        “Enough.” Everyone turned to face Arthur’s stern glare, but the king’s focus was solely on Merlin, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. He did notice, however, the trembling in the servant’s shoulders and the quiet sniffles no one else seemed to be aware of.

        “There’s nothing wrong with trying a new style.” He glanced around him, studying the men still trying to contain themselves. “We’ve all had a bad cut or two in our times, and the next one to laugh will find themselves with a head glistening in the sun.”

        Leon couldn’t help a nervous chuckle that burbled out of him and he tried to duck his head to avoid Arthur’s gaze. The king moved too quickly though, and caught the fair curls in his fist. “If you aren’t careful, I’ll shave you myself.” He studied his knight for another moment, before releasing him, giving his head a gentle push. “Back to work now. All of you.”

        He turned back towards Merlin, who had straightened himself and was now staring at him with red-rimmed eyes. The two studied each other for a long moment before Arthur found himself reaching out to touch Merlin’s fuzzy scalp. He stopped at the last moment, catching Merlin’s wary, if not a little hopeful gaze. “It’s not so bad Merlin. Honestly.”

        Merlin quirked a dark brow.

        “Okay. So it is. Your ears do tend to stick out rather far. It could be worse, though.”

        “Whatever you say, sire. If you’ll excuse me. I have some practice swords to sharpen.”

        “You don’t sharpen the practice swords Merlin!” Arthur shook his head. “Honestly, it’s like you _want_ someone to get hurt.”

        Merlin simply shrugged. “A man can dream.”

\---

        Lance studied Merlin from his side of the fire. It hadn’t escaped his notice how sullen his friend had become since he’d lost his hair. No one seemed to have been able to pinpoint a reason for the sudden withdrawal, but Gwen had shared her suspicions. As of yet, she had been unable to confirm them. Now, though, Lance thought he had the perfect opportunity. Only he, Merlin, Gwaine, and Arthur were around. Lance had already told Gwaine his and Gwen’s idea, and Gwaine had been all for it, if only because of his friendship with Merlin.

        “I’m telling you, Gwaine, this flower oil works magic. Makes my hair soft and gives it a nice smell. That’s why the ladies love me.”

        Gwaine shook his head. “No way. It’s the fact that you’re married.”

        Lance scoffed. “What kind of reasoning is that?”

        “Every lady loves a man who’s unavailable.”

        “Hardly. They loved me before I was Gwen’s.” He tugged at Gwaine’s waves. “Your hair has the texture of an unwashed mutt.”

        “It most certainly does not! It’s as soft as downy feathers.”

        Lance snorted. “Arthur! Come settle a bet.”

        Arthur glanced up, perplexed at the request. “What bet?”

        “Whose hair is softer? Mine or Gwaine’s?”

        Arthur scowled. “How am I supposed to know a thing like that?”

        Lancelot laughed. “Why, come and feel for yourself of course!” He kept his eyes on Merlin, noting the way the servant’s head jerked at the request. Gwaine also tracked the way Merlin followed Arthur around the fire, before the king stood in the way of his view.

        Arthur scowled down at them. “This is ridiculous.”

        Gwaine laughed. “Probably. But there’s no one around to see you, Princess.”

        Arthur knocked him hard in the temple. “You should show more respect to your king.”

        Gwaine just shrugged. “Well, get on with it! Caress these locks and tell Lancelot here that his hair is like steel wool.”

        Arthur rolled his eyes but complied, running one hand through each of the knight’s hair. He moved slowly, but purposefully, twisting the wavy locks and curling them around his fingers, slipping into gentle caresses. Finally, he removed his hands. “I don’t know. They feel about the same to me.”

        Gwaine made an offended noise.

“Fine, then. Whose do you like better though?”  Lancelot shifted his gaze across the way to where Merlin sat.

Arthur sighed. “Is this really necessary?”

Gwaine smirked. “Absolutely, your highness.”

“I suppose I prefer Gwaine’s then. It’s longer.” Arthur shrugged, embarrassment coloring his cheeks even in the firelight. He went to return to his log, glancing at Merlin. The servant wouldn’t meet his gaze, but instead stood and stormed out of the clearing without a backwards glance. Behind him, Gwaine and Lance shared a bemused look.

\---

        Merlin had been at it for days now. He’d had Gaius invent a virus for him so he could avoid Arthur. Several books lay open before him, but none of them had what he wanted and in his frustration he launched the nearest one into the fire. Magic, he was learning, was a finicky and wholly unpredictable mess of a force, with unclear rules and unambitious motives. He could age himself forward, and his appearance followed. He could borrow the feminine gender and his body flowed. He could enchant his visage and hide it from others. He could not, however, seem to find one way to alter a specific feature on his person without changing them all.

There was a knock at his door, and Merlin flicked his eyes at it, hoping the heat of his gaze would send whoever it was away. They knocked again.

        “Gaius isn’t here. Someone in the lower village caught a pox and he’s trying to contain it.”

        Mordred’s head peeked around the door. Morgana pushed him forward. “Relax, Merlin. We’re here for you.”

        “Oh?”

        Mordred gave him a sheepish look. “Yeah. Listen, Merlin. I feel terrible. You needing to cut your hair is mostly my fault. So we’ve come to help find a solution.”           

        Morgana gave a sharp laugh. “No, we’ve come with a solution.”

        Merlin shook his head. “Impossible. I’ve been through every resource Camelot has. There’s nothing.”

        Mordred nodded. “Right. There’s nothing in _Camelot’s_ vaults. But between Morgana and me, we have information from the Druids and the Old Religion.” Morgana presented a folded piece of parchment with a flourish only she could manage.

        “I, dear Merlin, have a spell that might be of _particular_ interest to you.”

        Merlin studied them apprehensively. “And what do you want in return.”

        Morgana grinned, all feline charm and grace as she bent over him. “Mordred here really does just want forgiveness and friendship from you. _My_ motives are a little more altruistic.”

        “Morgana-“

        “Quiet, Mordred. See, dear Merlin, you and my dimwitted brother have been making everyone in the castle tense with the way you dance around each other. Frankly, the suspense is making it hard for anyone else to enjoy themselves and I simply want that to be over. So. Mordred and I have found a spell that will allow you to focus your magic on a specific body part and enhance it however you choose. It’s a tricky bit of magic, and it’ll require extra energy to bind it, so we’re going to stick around and make sure it works.”

        Merlin hesitated, uncertain. However, his desire to have hair once more won out and he stretched his hand towards the parchment.

        “Good boy.”

\---

        It had been almost a week since Merlin had last bothered to show up to do his work. Arthur had half a mind to hunt him down and string him up, but it seemed that his sister, his knights, and even Gwen had all conspired to keep him so turned around he never had a chance to look for the idiot. He supposed that was why he was so shocked to return to his chambers after a long day and see someone bent over picking up linens off the floor.

        “Merlin!”

        The servant startled and then turned, and Arthur felt as though someone had punched the air out of him. He strode forward and grabbed Merlin by the shoulders, peering at him hard. “What has happened to your hair?”

        Merlin gave him a concerned look. “It grew, Sire.”

        “Do not mistake me for a fool, Merlin,” Arthur warned. “I know your hair did not grow this much in just a handful of days.”

        Merlin attempted to pull out of his grasp but Arthur gripped him tighter, absently noting how full his shoulders were in his palms. How close they were. He’d never really noticed before, but Merlin’s height nearly matched his own.

        Merlin averted his gaze. “No. I don’t suppose it would have, normally.”

        Arthur said nothing, just waited as Merlin grew shiftier in his grip, clearly itching to get away from the scrutiny.

        “All right. So I may have had some assistance from Morgana and Mordred. They figured out how to help me grow it.”  

        “Why though?”

        Merlin stared at him in disbelief. “Why? Why, sire? Because!” His chest heaved and Arthur had to let him go because of the flailing arms. “The knights all mocked me! And you hated it. You didn’t look at me the same! I had finally made some progress and it was all undone over something as ridiculous as a cropped head!”

        Arthur stared at him perplexed. “What are you talking about? I’ve always seen you the same.”

        Merlin sneered, bending down to pick up the laundry he’d previously dropped. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. You’ve never seen me as anything but your servant.”

        Arthur shook his head. “That’s not true. I see you as a good friend. Merlin - what is going on?”

        Merlin said nothing but continued picking up used clothing. A thought struck Arthur.

        “What did you mean, when you said Morgana and Mordred had helped you grow your hair?”

        “Don’t act surprised. You know about their magic.”

        “True, but you didn’t say _they_ used magic. You said the helped _you_ grow it.”

        Merlin froze, and Arthur stepped closer. “Merlin, what aren’t you saying?”

        “Please don’t ask me that, sire.” Merlin’s voice came out a quiet, trembling whisper.

        “Too late.”

        In the silence of the room, Arthur really wasn’t sure Merlin was going to tell him anything. He lost count of how many breaths it took before Merlin stood and turned, slowly facing him. Arthur studied the new growth hanging in his eyes, curling around his ears and neck. It looked soft and thick, and he was overwhelmed with an urge to touch it, to feel it the way he had Lance and Gwaine’s, to fist his hands in it and tug Merlin’s face to meet his own. He didn’t have a chance to move though, before Merlin’s trembling hand was rising between them, a small, warm, orange glow nestled in the center. He could feel himself shutting down and his face going blank, but there was nothing he could do as Merlin’s eyes, usually a dusty blue but now a vibrant gold, rose to his own.

        “You have magic.”

        Merlin nodded.

        “You’re dismissed, Merlin.”

\---

        Morgana stormed into Arthur’s chambers without bothering to knock. “Dear brother. Do you want to tell me why your servant has been exiled to Gaius’ chambers indefinitely?”

        “Hello to you too, Morgana.”

        “I’ve no time for pleasantries. Not with Merlin distraught and refusing to see any of his friends. What is wrong with you?”

        Arthur leveled his sister with a look. “Nothing is wrong with me, and I’ll remind you to watch your tone when addressing me, _sister_.”

        Morgana sneered. “Don’t you pull that tone with me, Arthur. You’ve never had much leverage over me and I certainly won’t bow to someone who is so willing to hurt their friends.”

        “Servant,” Arthur stressed, betrayal lacing his tone. “He’s my servant. And I did nothing to hurt him. He lied to me Morgana. Has been lying for years.”

        “About his magic?” She rolled her eyes at the shock on Arthur’s face. “Oh, don’t be daft. Of course I know. Mordred knows too. But he’s hidden it for so long, Arthur. His whole life! He’s not going to let go of that kind of paranoia overnight.”           

        “Three years, Morgana! Three years.” Arthur sighed, running a hand down his face. “He had three years to tell me, and instead he continued to lie.”

        “Can you blame him? He was probably frightened. That kind of secret, it changes things when it gets out. People look at you differently. Magic is still viewed with much suspicion in Camelot. People eye you on the streets, watch you closely in the corridors. You never get a moment’s peace once people know.”

        “You cope with it. Mordred manages just fine.”

        “Mordred spent his life surrounded by that kind of suspicion. He lived a life constantly on the run, hiding from those who wanted him dead. A few side-eyes are nothing to him. And I spent my life with a different kind of scrutiny. Besides, neither of us were worried about your response, specifically. You’ve never truly embraced magic Arthur.”          

        “What is any of that supposed to mean?”

        “It means exactly what you think it means.”

        Arthur scoffed. “Like that explains anything.”

        Morgana threw her hands in the air. “For God’s sake, Arthur! Merlin cares more about your opinion than that of anyone else in the world. And he’s seen the way you study magic users more closely than known criminals! You set them free in Camelot, but you don’t let them close to you. Merlin was terrified that if he let you know that secret, whatever bond you two had, however close you two were, it would be shattered and he’d never be near you again. And he couldn’t handle that so he did the only thing he knew and continued to pretend to be your servant because he believed that was the only way to have you.” Morgana got quiet and stepped close to him. “You care about him, brother, in a way you don’t care about others, and yet you still keep him at a distance. His desperation, his need to never be banished from your side manifested in an insane betrayal of who he was and by the time he realized it didn’t have to be that way, the webs had already been spun. They were not easy to escape from.”

        Arthur said nothing; just turned away from his sister, working his jaw tightly. Morgana waited, sure he would respond. “You’re dismissed, sister.”

        Morgana growled at him, gripping him by the strings of his shirt as she hissed at him. “Listen here, brother. Fix this problem. Mend things with Merlin or I’ll turn your royal arse into a field arse. You already laugh like a donkey, I’ll give you a face to match.”

\---

        Merlin wasn’t sure how long he’d been curled with his head under the blanket before Gaius managed to force him into a bath and feed him some food. It worked to temporarily appease the old man, and then Merlin resumed his fetal position. It hadn’t been long enough before there was a knock on his door, but he didn’t dare move, not even to push damp hair from his eyes.

        The knocking on the door continued, and then he heard Arthur’s voice. “Merlin, I know you’re in there. Open up.”

        Still Merlin said nothing.

        The knocking didn’t cease though, so Merlin lifted a hand weakly and muttered under his breath letting the latch unlock. Arthur stormed in as soon as he realized he could.

        Merlin could feel Arthur’s gaze through the blanket but he didn’t move, not even when he felt the bed shift as Arthur settled beside him.

        “Why didn’t you tell me, Merlin?”

        Merlin’s shoulders twitched in a vain attempt at a shrug.   

        “That’s not an answer.”

        Merlin sniffed, then curled up a little tighter. “Go away, Arthur.”

        “No, not until we work this out. I don’t particularly enjoy being in the way of Morgana’s wrath.”

        He had expected Merlin to laugh but the crumpled form before him did not move. Arthur hesitated, then laid a careful hand on what he assumed was Merlin’s shoulder. Beneath him, Merlin stiffened. They held that position for several breaths before Merlin relaxed into the touch.

        “You could have trusted me, Merlin.”

        The blanket slowly slid down, revealing Merlin’s pale and drawn face. “No, I really couldn’t have. It changes everything. It changes how you see me. How you look at me. Already there’s a wariness in your eyes that wasn’t there before.”

        “True. There is. But Merlin, that’s only natural. It doesn’t mean its forever. It just means…” Arthur hesitated, retracting his hand. “It means, Merlin, that we are growing. Adapting.”

        Merlin turned to face after, damp hair blocking most of his watery eyes. He sniffed. “What if we aren’t growing? Just changing?”

        “Would that really be so bad?”

        Merlin nodded. “It could be. If you never trust me again, or see me as a friend. If it means you begin to push me away, out of your life.”

        Arthur scrambled off the bed and onto his knees facing Merlin. “Don’t be daft! I could never remove you from my life. Not forever, anyway. You’re like a fungus that just keeps coming back!”

        He reached a careful hand forward, pushing Merlin’s wet hair out of his face. It struck him that this was one of the few times he’d ever allowed himself to get this close to Merlin for reasons other than imminent death. He rather liked it, and continued to brush Merlin’s hair to the side.

        “Why’d you grow your hair out?”

        Merlin pulled a plump lip between his teeth, averting his gaze.

        “Merlin.” Arthur tried to keep the aggression out of his voice, but he couldn’t help his frustration.

        “You have this habit, with long hair. You like to card your fingers through it. You’ve got this weird thing with all hair, constantly petting people’s heads and scratching your fingers across their scalp, but you linger in the longer hair.” Merlin’s voice was almost a whisper. “You said you liked longer hair.”

        Arthur’s hand had stilled on Merlin’s head and he wasn’t sure what to do. Merlin didn’t seem to notice. “Just once, I wanted that. Wanted your touch, to feel you the way others do. I wanted there to be a moment, just one moment, where we weren’t master and servant. Where I could pretend that there was something in the touch.”

        Arthur furrowed his brows. “Merlin, there’s always something in it when I touch you.”

        Merlin shook his head. “Sure, but it’s never the same. It’s all casual affection with everyone else. You never even think about running a hand across their shoulders. Playfully punching them in the chest or knocking your knees to theirs around a campfire. But with me, you’re careful to never touch me unless you absolutely must. If I were standing on the edge of a cliff, you’d wait until I started falling to grab me.”

        Arthur dropped his head and drew his hand into his lap. “I thought I was protecting us both. Never thought you’d notice any difference. Then again, you aren’t nearly as obtuse as you’d have everyone believe, are you?”

        Merlin sat up, knees brushing against Arthur’s back. “I don’t understand.”

        “You aren’t the only one who’s built walls between us Merlin.”

        Merlin shifted, one of his hands brushing against Arthur’s. He moved to draw it back to himself, but Arthur caught it and held it between both of his. “Merlin. The world changes quickly and people adapt, but still they expects their kings to uphold old traditions.”

        Merlin stared at their hands, nodding.

“Camelot has just begun to embrace magic. Has just allowed knights of non-noble blood, and servants to move up in station. I do not know that I can ask them to allow for much more.”

        Merlin shook his head. “I never asked for anything, Arthur.”

        “No, you didn’t. But I wanted you to. I still want you to. I’m sorry, Merlin, that I pulled away. But I couldn’t do it. To either of us. And it’s not something noble either. I wanted more than just to protect you. I wanted to protect myself.” He lifted a hand towards the slowly drying waves around the nape of Merlin’s neck, then pulled back. “I don’t indulge, because I know that once I do, I’ll never stop.”

        Merlin’s lips quivered and he shut his eyes tightly against the sting. He didn’t know what to do in this moment. There was no magic spell to fix this situation, No incantation to take away what he was feeling. It didn’t seem fair to him, that he could have so much in his life and still not be allowed the one thing he truly wanted. “I’d give it up, you know, if it meant having you. I’d give everything up.”

        Arthur turned his head, studying the dark lashes in front of him. “I wouldn’t want you to. Not now that I know. It’s a part of you. To give that up would make you incomplete, and I could never accept anything less than all of you.”

        Merlin answered in a quivering voice. “I’ll always be here for you Arthur, but I don’t know that I’m strong enough to keep doing this. I always thought that just being near you, being able to serve you and protect you, I thought it was enough. But I can’t handle seeing you so affectionate with everyone else while I’m starving for just a touch. I can’t ask you not to interact with others, either.”

        Arthur sniffed, surreptitiously swiping a hand under his nose. “I don’t want that for you either, Merlin. I just – ” He swung his legs up on the bed, so that his knees were against Merlin’s side, bracketing his servant the same way Merlin’s knees balanced him on the narrow cot. “It’s easier to pretend when there are harsh words between us.”

        “They don’t carve out sections of your heart?”

        “They do. But better pieces than the whole thing.”

        The only sound in the room was their breaths, separate, but harmonious. It stayed that way as the light shifted outside, until their foreheads rested together. “Show me something?” The whisper broke the stillness, shifting the air in unseen patterns.

        Merlin held out his hand, eyes on Arthur as he whispered something. In his palm, a single, luminescent blue butterfly fluttered to life. Arthur didn’t see it though, too enraptured with the way the darkness in Merlin’s eyes gave way to a brilliant golden light. He reached out a finger, tracing the dark lashes framing the star-light eyes. “Beautiful.”

        Merlin snorted. “Hardly.”

        Arthur shook his head, fierce determination carved in his features. He shifted so that his weight was balanced on his knees and he could frame Merlin’s face in his hands. He traced first the hollows of Merlin’s cheek, a little too pronounced after weeks of poor eating and little sleep. “Enchanting.” He trailed his fingers over the sharp curves of his cheek bones, sharp and dangerous. “Enticing.” Trailed a thumb over plump lips, surprised at how warm they were. “Intoxicating.” Followed the bridge of his nose. “Alluring.” Hesitantly he curled his hands into Merlin’s hair, running his fingers through the locks, marveling at the silky feel. It was everything he’d dreamed of, and he experimentally tugged at the waves on Merlin’s neck. Merlin let his head fall back, mouth open as the faintest of breaths huffed out of him.

        In battle, there were moments just before the sword struck, where the silence rang in the ears and the air stood still. It was a last chance, one moment to reconsider, to decide. Arthur liked those moments, because they were milliseconds long. It was pure instinct guiding the choice and there was no room for hesitation, no time to consider every improbable angle, every potential outcome.

        Perhaps time was the problem between him and Merlin. Too much of it. Too many chances to back away, too many years of following the rules. Too little of it. Too little opportunity to explore, too few years for the world to accept so much change. Still, he leaned in, pausing only when he tasted Merlin’s breath on his tongue, despite the space still between their lips. “If we do this, Merlin. If we give in, we can never take it back.”

        “I know.”

        “Camelot might not be ready for us. It might be too soon. We could be asking for more than they can give.”

        “Have faith in your people, Arthur. Have faith in your ability to guide them into acceptance. We can wait, as long as we have something to wait for.”

        “I may be king, Merlin, but I’ve warned you I’m not noble. I meant that when I said it. I won’t wait forever to have you, if there is a chance I can. You need to understand what you’re getting into. Because I’ll fight for you and for Camelot and I won’t stop until I have both.”

        Merlin nodded. “I’ve stood by your side through everything so far, Arthur. I don’t see that as a habit I break anytime soon.”

        Arthur grinned, then pulled at the hair trapped in his fist, forcing Merlin’s head back so he had access to the long, pale neck. Gently, as gently as he could anyway, he marked his way up Merlin’s neck and under his jaw. “You can still back out. Your ridiculous scarf would cover these.”

        Merlin swallowed, trying to control his breathing. “Arthur. Either you shut your mouth, and kiss me, or you get up and walk out of this room and we find some way to go back to how things were.”

        “Never.” Arthur leaned down and finally caught Merlin’s lips with his own, fingers tangled in his hair. This was a good length for Merlin, he decided. Arthur paused a moment, considering. As king, he could probably pass a law requiring Merlin to keep it like this permanently. First though, he’d have to find a way to reinstate Court Sorcerers.

 


End file.
